Twenty-One
MARK
Leaning towards him, Mark planted his fists either side of Cummings’ desk while he waited for whatever pathetic explanations the man thought reasonable for assaulting a woman.
‘She’s an informant.’ Cummings laughed incredulously, but Mark didn’t miss the nervousness flitting across his eyes. They were alone, with no witnesses if he lost it big time this time and did what he really wanted to.
‘And that justifies you forcibly ejecting her from your car how, exactly?’ he said, through gritted teeth, making sure to hold eye contact with the detective sergeant.
‘For fuck’s sake, what is this? A bloody interrogation?’ Cummings pushed his chair back and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. ‘She had a hold of my balls, all right!’ He looked back to Mark, his expression one of humiliation. ‘What would you have done?’
If I were Tanya? You really don’t want to know, Cummings. ‘Why?’ he asked shortly. ‘Why did she have a hold of you?’
Cummings splayed his hands. ‘How the fuck do I know? Off her head on coke probably.’
Yeah, right. Mark didn’t believe a fucking word of it. Straightening up, he pushed his hands into his pockets. Still, he kept his gaze fixed hard on Cummings. ‘Supplied by you.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘Uh-uh. No way.’ Cummings got furiously to his feet. ‘I pay my girls cash.’
Mark couldn’t keep the contempt from his eyes. ‘Including the girls you have sex with?’
‘Sometimes.’ He shrugged, looking back to Mark. ‘Some of us don’t have the convenience of a wife to go home to, do we? Sir.’
Mark sucked in a breath. Don’t, he cautioned himself, swallowing back the hard knot of anger climbing his chest.
‘I’m presuming you have some evidence to back up your accusation?’ Cummings asked, his eyes defiant, his tone holding a challenge.
Mark glanced away, disgust broiling inside him.
‘Thought not,’ Cummings sneered, turning to reseat himself at his computer.
Mark counted, silently, steadily. He was an inch away from dragging the man back to his feet, stuff the consequences. ‘And the photos?’ he asked, sorely tempted to forcibly retrieve the phone from the man’s pocket.
Cummings looked disinterestedly up from his screen. ‘What photos?’
Mark clamped hard down on his jaw. ‘The photos I saw you taking, Cummings. You might do better to turn your flash off if you want to take covert photos in future.’
Cummings knitted his brow, confused, supposedly, and then nodded as if realisation had just dawned. ‘It was my lighter. I was lighting a cigarette.’ He smiled flatly. ‘You could probably do me for that, since it was a pool car – depending how desperate you are.’
Looking him scornfully over, Cummings dragged his gaze away, safe in the knowledge that Mark couldn’t touch him.
Not yet. But soon, Cummings. Some time very soon.
His gut twisting inside him, Mark turned to slam out of the office. His still had to check out Hawthorn Farm before hurrying home to shower before going out with Mel. Lisa was right, there really was an obnoxious odour around here.
Twenty-Two
JADE
‘I still can’t believe what he did,’ Dylan said, gazing down at Evie, who was contentedly sleeping after her feed. Jade sighed inside, wondering whether the idiot boy was worth the effort. He really was as thick as pig shit. He hadn’t even recognised her from their school days. Mind you, with her changed facial appearance, blue contacts and once unremarkable mousey brown hair now a head-turning shade of blonde, he wasn’t likely to. He even looked like a plank, with that perpetual gormless expression. But a pliable plank, she reminded herself, which was why she needed to stroke drippy Dylan’s ego, along with certain other parts of his anatomy. When it was time to lose little Evie for a while – or, rather, for poor muddled Melissa to lose her for a while – Dylan could be trusted to keep his mouth shut. He’d already proved that much.
‘I was young.’ Collecting up her baby bag, Jade walked across the barn, sighing wistfully as she joined him. ‘He was helping me out, really.’
‘What?’ Dylan turned to her, his heavy forehead furrowed disapprovingly. ‘By making you have his babies?’
‘Paying me, Dylan. I wouldn’t have had a roof over my head otherwise,’ Jade reminded him. Dylan had offered her his roof, of course, when she’d tearfully confided in him. Thankfully, he’d realised it wouldn’t be at all suitable for all of them, the cottage being so tiny and with basic amenities, and that, in any case, she couldn’t possibly leave without her baby. More importantly, when she did leave, she had to be secure in the knowledge the child’s father wouldn’t try to grab her back.
‘Yeah, well, it’s still taking ad…’ Dylan stopped, his frown deepening as he struggled for the word.
‘Advantage,’ Jade kindly supplied.
‘Yeah, that.’ Dylan nodded piously, puffing up his big barrel chest as he did. ‘It’s just wrong, innit, him being a policeman and all. He should be setting an example. My mum always said that people in positions of authority should be beyond…’
Dylan trailed off, apparently at a loss for what policemen should be beyond.
‘Reproach.’ Mentally rolling her eyes, Jade helped him along. ‘And your mum’s right, Dylan. But I didn’t have anyone else, did I. No mum. No dad. I only had him. You haven’t said anything about the babies, have you?’ she added quickly. ‘To your mum?’
Dylan shook his head adamantly. ‘No, Scout’s honour.’
Jade winced as he actually held up two fingers in a scout salute. ‘Or anyone else?’ she asked, scrutinising him carefully. Dylan’s cheeks flushed like a set of brake lights if he was ever embarrassed or uncomfortable. She’d soon know if he was lying.
‘Haven’t breathed a word,’ he assured her, with another exaggerated shake of his head.
‘Good.’ Jade gave his cheek a pat, her other hand straying to his groin, causing Dylan to suck in a sharp breath. ‘We wouldn’t want anyone to come between us, would we? And they would, you know, if they found out I’d had his babies before I was old enough.’
‘I didn’t say anything, honest.’ Dylan’s voice went up an octave as she gave his testicles a gentle squeeze, giving him an instant hard-on.
‘You’re a rock, Dylan.’ Jade leaned in, panting breathily in his ear. ‘I’m so lucky to have you as a boyfriend.’
Dylan nodded. ‘I like being your boyfriend,’ he said, the flush to his cheeks indicating his awkwardness as his eyes flicked to hers and back. ‘You shouldn’t be living with him, though, Jade. Not if you’re my girlfriend.’
Jade stopped her ministrations in favour of lifting his chin to gaze lovingly at him. Dylan might be pliable, but now he’d discovered what his penis was for apart from pissing, he was showing signs of becoming proprietorial. God forbid his male ego might drive him to do anything unpredictable. ‘It’s only for a while,’ she assured him, blinking kindly. ‘Just until my house is rebuilt. And at least this way I get to see my children.’
Dylan ran a hand under his nose. Still, he looked disgruntled.
Damn. Jade hoped she wasn’t going to have to go the whole hog and give him a blowjob by way of distracting him. It wouldn’t take long but she really needed to be getting back. ‘And then you can move in with me, remember?’ She dangled the prize carrot instead. The prospect of having her next to him in bed every night was enough to make sure he stayed on track.
‘And the kids?’ Dylan said, eyeing her uncertainly.
‘And the kids,’ Jade assured him, smiling her sweetest smile. ‘And your mum can visit as often as she wants. She could even move in with us if she liked.’
Dylan brightened at that. ‘She could cook our dinner.’
‘We’d be one big happy family,’ said Jade, though she was having to force the smile a bit now.
Dylan nodded happily, and then frowned, again. ‘But what about the other one?’ he asked. ‘I’
m not sure it’s good for her, being away from you and all.’
‘Oh, she’s fine.’ Jade waved a hand, irked now. Given how unemotional he was when it came to shooting vermin or snapping chickens’ necks, she hadn’t banked on him becoming attached to the girl. ‘She’s much better off staying with you than with me.’
Dylan didn’t look convinced.
‘You know he doesn’t want her, Dylan.’ Jade blinked at him beseechingly. ‘It’s best she stays where she is for a while. Just make sure your mother doesn’t go poking her nose— Shhhh.’ Hearing a car drawing up in the farmyard, Jade cocked an ear.
Perplexed, since drippy Dylan and his depressing-looking mum hardly ever had visitors, she pressed a finger to her lips and tiptoed across the floor to peer through a popped knot in the barn door, and then… Shit!
Twenty-Three
MARK
Mark climbed out of his car, deciding to take a look around before knocking on the farmhouse door. If there was anything they’d missed, he was hardly going to fall over it, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that Daisy was still alive and being held close to home. She haunted his dreams. But then, the small girl who’d died in the cruellest way possible came to him at night too, her tiny form curled into a ball, clutching her one-eyed Pooh Bear close to her chest, calling out to him. And the smell, before the unbearable screams snatched him back to consciousness: thick, cloying smoke, scorching his lungs, suffocating him.
In dreams of Daisy, it was always the same rural smell. Mark had no idea why the nightmares kept coming, robbing him of what sleep he might get in between Evie waking. It was because he had children, he supposed. Because he lived in fear of something too unbearable to comprehend happening to his baby girls, and that, despite having police resources at his fingertips, he would be powerless to save them.
Shaking himself, Mark looked around. Once a well-kept, thriving dairy farm, the place was now abandoned, the cow house and stables sadly bereft of inhabitants. He decided to start with the smaller of the two barns, frightening scrawny chickens who’d obviously escaped the poultry yard into a flutter of wings and piercing skirls as he walked. Once inside, he wondered why he’d come. Like the rest of the farmyard, it was empty, dusty and derelict. Original beams supported the roof; ropes and chains hung from a crossbeam. Nothing much else inside; nowhere to hide.
The smell though – damp, earthy and pungent, of mildew and soft hay – was so familiar. Mark sighed, despairing of himself. He was supposed to be dealing in facts, not wild flights of the imagination. He was triggering childhood memories, that was all. One in particular, where he’d been selected as one of the school’s deprived kids to go on some pony-trekking holiday. Turns out he hadn’t been much safer away from home. He’d heard him before he saw him, his old man, pissed, ranting incoherently in the small office situated next to the stables – Christ only knew how he’d driven there. He’d come to fetch him back. Mark hadn’t been about to go back though. Even as a kid, he’d known he wouldn’t make it. Not that time. He’d hid instead – spent half his life hiding. Deciding the hayloft was too obvious a place, he’d bolted for the stable block, curling himself into the corner of one of the stalls. The stench of leather and hay and horse manure had been overpowering. He’d been more terrified of his father finding him than the horse’s hooves, which had seemed pretty menacing to a ten-year-old-kid. He’d been lonely, too. The other kids’ cruel taunts had intensified after that. Forget it, he told himself. It was the past, dead and buried.
Consigning it to history, telling himself he needed to stop chasing shadows, Mark turned to walk back across the yard, pained by the sense of isolation the disused property evoked.
Twenty-Four
JADE
‘Don’t move.’ Jade whispered, her heart thrumming manically against her ribcage. Fear, and an undeniable frisson of sexual pleasure, surged through her as she watched Mark walk towards the barn. ‘He can’t find me.’ Turning imploring eyes towards Dylan, whose face was now set in a hard scowl, she pressed a finger to her lips and stole a glance at Evie.
Hell! Why had she come looking for Dylan when she hadn’t found him at the cottage? She’d already been pushed for time. She should have just left.
Please don’t wake up, Angel. Seeing Evie twitch in her sleep, her eyelids fluttering, as if she might wake at any second, Jade prayed hard. He couldn’t find her here. He absolutely couldn’t. Panic mounted in her chest. She could lie through her teeth, but nothing would excuse exposing his baby to danger. He’d never forgive her. She couldn’t risk that. There was also the risk that he wouldn’t leave it there. That drippy Dylan might drop her in it, even though she’d coached him and coached him. And then what? Mark was a detective. He might take Dylan to the station, question him. How long would it be before Dylan spilled his guts and told him where the little girl—
Jade closed her eyes with relief, gulping hard, as she noticed the farmhouse door opening. Glancing over his shoulder, Mark turned towards it, and then stopped to fish his phone from his pocket.
Evie stirred as he spoke, as she naturally would on hearing the rich, deep timbre of her daddy’s voice. Quickly, Jade turned to gather her from the stroller. ‘Hush, little baby, don't say a word,’ she recited silently, rocking her gently. Then, grabbing her pacifier from the stroller tray and feeding it to her, she turned back to the barn door, hardly daring to breathe as she listened.
‘Oh Christ… You’re joking.’ She heard Mark’s shocked tone. ‘But why the hell would she think that?’
Jade waited as Mark listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.
‘But you told her the texts were only ever work-related?’ Mark went on, running a hand agitatedly through his hair.
Jade felt a thrill of excitement spiking inside her. Melissa had obviously got the hints she’d been dropping about Lisa’s persistent texting. And it was about time. Jade had been wondering whether she was going to have to paint the woman a bloody picture.
‘Apart from the one I sent while you were there. Right.’ Mark sighed despondently and stared up into the sky. ‘Okay, thanks, Lisa. No, not your fault. I’d better get back.’
Jade watched as Mark ended the call, studied the phone for a second, as if debating making another, and then walked towards Dylan’s mother, standing in the farmhouse door. Poor Mark. She could almost feel his hurt. She so wished he didn’t have to suffer all this. It was just so cruel. But then, she had to be cruel to be kind. There was no other way. They were two souls destined to be together. She would soothe away his troubles with sweet, tender kisses, take his seed inside her, gladly give birth to his babies. He would thank her, eventually, for opening his eyes.
Twenty-Five
MELISSA
‘So, what do you think?’ Mel asked Poppy, turning from the front door after waving off Poppy’s little friend and her dad, who’d kindly delivered Poppy safely home. He’d clearly appreciated her new look. Mel might have been out of circulation for a while, but she could still read the signs. Poppy, however…
Peering over Baby Annabell, clutched to her chest, she looked up at Mel uncertainly. ‘You look like Jade,’ she whispered, her huge chocolate-brown eyes filled with awe.
‘Do I?’ Mel fluffed up her new blonde locks, courtesy of a mad dash to the supermarket. ‘Well, there’s a compliment.’
Smiling, she held out her hand and waited for Poppy to take hold of it. Poppy hesitated for a second, which was only natural, Mel supposed, on finding a different-looking mummy greeting her at the front door. She actually wasn’t trying to look like Jade. She’d been going more for the Lisa look, on the basis that Mark obviously preferred blondes. She’d stopped short of cropping her hair short, although she’d felt like it, closely followed by slicing into his shirts.
She toyed with the latter idea. But no. She was going to rise above it, she’d decided. She wasn’t even going to question him about it. She was going to be the epitome of calm. Sitting in the corner sobbing like a bab
y wasn’t an option. She had cried, bitter tears of hurt and soul-crushing humiliation. She felt too tired for this, too tired to fight it. And then she’d caught sight of herself in the mirror, looking pathetic, looking exhausted, and thought fuck him. And Lisa, her so-called friend. She wasn’t going to scream and shout, she didn’t want to hurl raging accusations in front of their children, she just wanted to get back to where she was a few short weeks ago. She wanted to feel well, to feel in control again. And to that end, she did need to fight. She’d stocked up on vitamins, throwing them in her shopping basket arbitrarily. Starting tomorrow, she would set her alarm and make sure to get up early. Eat sensibly, exercise, and then get back to work in earnest. She wasn’t going to go down the medication route. There was absolutely no way was she going there again, so far down the bottomless pit she’d had to claw her way out of it by her fingernails. Wouldn’t Mark love that, his wife comatose to the point of oblivion, enabling him to do what he liked, who he liked? But… She swallowed back a tight lump in her throat. He wouldn’t. Not the Mark she knew. He’d always been dependable, there for her, the one solid thing in her life when everything else seemed to be sliding away from her. Her rock.
But he was human, wasn’t he? Perhaps he was tired, too. Emotionally depleted. Perhaps he needed support, and she just hadn’t seen it. She wouldn’t fall apart, Mel promised herself. She wouldn’t accuse him or attack him. She would wait. She would watch. And she would see. Because, if her worst fears were true, if he no longer loved her, which was possible – love wasn’t forever, was it? – it would be there in his eyes.
The Babysitter: A gripping psychological thriller with edge-of-your-seat suspense Page 11